Spring is in the Air
by ShadowBallad
Summary: Snape and McGonagall are both stressed out. What better way to remedy that than by going to the Heads of House bathroom for a nice long soak? Only, they don't realise the other has the same idea! Chapter 5 up!
1. Chapter 1

Spring is in the Air…

By ShadowBallad

A/N: This is just a little fic that popped into my head while on Christmas holiday. The plot bunny has been nibbling at my brain for a while, so I finally surrendered and am now writing it. Rated T for insinuated nudity, mature themes and some language.

It will also be SS/MM and slight, female-sided SS/PS and SS/RH. If this isn't your cuppa, don't drink and blame me for the bad taste if leaves in your mouth.

Timeframe: AU Spring sixth year

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and friends (and enemies). If I did, I would be rich instead of dirt poor.

* * *

Chapter One: Aches, Pains and "Hufflepuff" Temptations

All in all, it was turning out to be a rather horrid day for Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

First period with first-year Ravenclaws wasn't helping his mood much. Oh, the other teachers all _loved_ Ravenclaws. They praised them for their curiosity, their love of learning, and their inquisitive minds.

Severus didn't mind them much, usually. Only when certain Inquisitive Minds thought that they knew more than he did about Potions, and thus decided to experiment by tossing Essence of Yew, powdered bicorn horn and a jar of rat spleens into a cauldron, did he start to get frustrated.

By the time the cauldron exploded, green sap covered the entire classroom, and an ominous foul-smelling gas made students become violently ill, he began to hate them.

A lot.

After nearly screaming himself hoarse, he managed to get all the students out of the classroom. Another ranting was due to the Inquisitive Mind who caused the mess (as well as a 35 House point deduction and weekend detention) before he sent the students off early to their dormitory. Loaded, of course, with much more homework than usual and a rather nasty essay on top of it all.

Then came the task of making the dungeons inhabitable within half an hour.

Oh, the little joys of teaching.

He really didn't want to go back inside. If truth be told, the gas had made him quite ill as well. "Bullocks," he sighed as he resigned himself to a dirty morning.

Carefully Severus opened the door and was immediately struck by the awful stench. He quickly covered his nose with one black robe sleeve, but not before he caught a slight whiff of rotten eggs, week-old sewage and something else too disgusting to contemplate.

Cursing students and their unlimited ability to wreak havoc, the professor drew his wand from his sleeve and dispelled the gas with an irritable flick. The moment it was gone he dropped the sleeve and inhaled the air tentatively.

And promptly became violently ill over a puddle of green sap at his feet.

"Bloody hell and damnation!" he rasped when his stomach ad finished emptying itself of his breakfast of toast and coffee. Snape, who discovered that sometime during his illness he had fallen to his knees, transfigured a sludge pile nearby into a handkerchief and dabbed at his mouth. All the while, he was careful not to breathe in through his nose for fear of vomiting again.

The rough, cold stone was uncomfortable against his hands, but upon attempting to rise his stomach flip-flopped and he was back on the ground. Muttering obscene words in every language he knew, he slowly waited for the nausea to pass.

It took another good five minutes before the Potions Master could stand without gagging again. He ran a shaky hand through his shoulder-length black hair, surveying the mess with renewed distaste.

"I should have taken more points than 35," Snape grumbled to himself before retrieving his wand from the cobbles at his feet.

"_Evanesco_!" he shouted, pointing the black wand at the pile of sludge that was covered in his sickness. He felt a little queasy as he cleaned up the rest of the green slime, and hated himself for being so weak.

Finally everything was cleaned up. Severus strode moodily to the door and opened it, so as to let clean air from the outside corridor mingle with the air inside the dungeon. It still smelt a bit of nasty things.

This done, he plopped unceremoniously down into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose between his right index finger and thumb. His head ached; his back ached; he _still_ felt a bit nauseous, and to top it all off, his immaculate black robes were flecked with green goo. Severus absently picked at a large blob on his thigh, but it resolutely refused to come off. Blasting the stubborn slime only earned him a singed hole in his trousers, which put him in an even fouler mood than before.

Midmorning break found him kneading throbbing temples and downing a large mug of tea. And, of course, cursing students and their multitudinous ways of making his life miserable.

The bell to sound second period rang what seemed far too short a time later, and the dungeons were soon filled with Hufflepuffs. Snape suppressed a moan and got to his feet.

"Today we are brewing an Anti-Venom Drought that purged venom caused by an animal bite from the bloodstream. I must also stress use the _correct_ amount of bicorn horn; too much could – _yes_, Mr. Winston?" Snape snapped as the third-year tentatively raised his hand. If there was anything Snape hated more than students fooling around in his class, it was students who interrupted him while he was speaking.

"Uh…Sir? I smell something weird," said Winston nervously. Someone tittered in the back of the class.

Severus, however, was not amused. Not in the least. Oh no. Not amused at _all_.

"Perhaps it is your body odour you smell, Mr. Winston?" he grated between clenched teeth. The student's face flushed crimson and he sunk lower in his chair.

Snape, however, was not to be deterred when a victim had volunteered himself. He thundered over to Mr. Winston's desk in a fit rage. "I. Do. Not. _Care_. What. You. Smell!" he snarled, nearly nose-to-nose with the frightened student. "Unless you want to fail this class, I suggest you plug your nose and _get to work!_" The Hufflepuff meeped and scrambled to the potions supply cabinet to collect the necessary ingredients. Snape watched him the entire way there with a particularly vengeful sneer on his thin face.

"And 5 points from Hufflepuff for your inappropriate comment, Mr. Winston," he added silkily as the student returned to his desk, face still red with embarrassment.

"What!" Winston howled, along with a good portion of the class. The professor pivoted on his heel and stood behind his own desk to face a room full of enraged faces.

"Unless you want it to be 15, I suggest you shut _up_!" Snape bellowed, flaming his fists onto his desk with a loud BANG!

The classroom became absolutely silent. The only noises to be heard were the pleasant crackling of flames beneath cauldrons, and Essence of Yew being carefully measured and poured into them.

With a grunt of frustration Severus plopped down into his chair once more. His headache had gotten progressively worse and now required extensive kneading of temples to feel even the slightest bit better. Long, slender fingers groped about to his left until they alighted upon a stack of un-graded essays. Another exploration found a jar of red ink and his quill.

For the remainder of the period, Professor Snape amused himself by taking out his bad mood on the equally bad essays in front of him. He marked every paper with so much red ink that that it appeared the parchments were bleeding.

* * *

"Severus, what is wrong?" someone (he didn't care who) asked.

Severus didn't bother to reply. He was tired, achy, and the sight of the food on his plate was threatening to make him sick.

A finger sharply prodded his right side, and with an oath he turned to meet the concerned face of Minerva McGonagall. Well, it _had_ been concerned. Now she just seemed appalled by his word choice.

Minerva clucked her tongue disapprovingly and shook her head at him. "Language, Severus; really! What if one of the students had heard you?" she scolded, peering at him over the rims of her glasses.

"I don't bloody care at the bloody moment," he said sullenly. His fork prodded at some green beans, but they reminded him too much of the green sap from earlier that morning for him to even consider eating them.

Minerva ignored his comment and watched him poke around his food, never taking any to his mouth. He dearly wished the woman would mind her own business, and leave him be. But, live was never that simple for him.

"You haven't taken a single bite," she said with a hint of disappointment in her lilting Scottish accent.

"Astute observation, Minerva," he snapped with a little more venom than he meant. The Gryffindor Head of House was not to be deterred by snark, however. She continued to stare pointedly at him until he became exceedingly uncomfortable under her gaze and put his fork down altogether.

"Disagreeable morning," he grunted, taking a sip of water to moisten his dry throat.

She reached out to pat his arm, but a warning glare halted her in mid-movement. She made a vexed sound but quickly returned to Caring Colleague mode.

"Aren't they always?" Severus didn't care for the slightly teasing quality to her voice, but chose to be too miserable in his bodily aches and pains to comment on it.

Instead, he gave a noncommittal grunt and drained the rest of his water in one gulp.

Once again, Minerva refused to be brushed aside so easily. "Whenever I feel a bit down, I find that taking a nice long bath in the Heads of House bathroom to be a wonderful way to relax," she said after taking a prim bite of mashed potatoes and gravy.

Damn the woman! Didn't she know to leave well enough alone? Snape grunted again, determined to be antisocial. Besides, watching her eat made him feel a right bit ill.

McGonagall was having none of his standoffishness, however. "I do hope you feel better, Severus," she said with sincere compassion. Severus granted her with a rather rude snort, but she ignored this like everything else. "It might not relieve your attitude, but your body will thank you."

Before he could supply a deliciously nasty retort, the black-haired witch gracefully rose from the table and left him seething in his chair.

* * *

Severus's conversation with Minerva during lunch only served to make his mood even nastier. The next class – Double Potions with the Gryffindors and Slytherins – was doomed to receive his wrath.

Had a certain Gryffindor boy by the name of Harry Potter realised that his professor was in an even fouler mood than usual, he might have decided to not show up to class. That would have made said professor infinitely happier. But alas, Life decided to play him foul (once again), and Potter did indeed come to class.

Just the sight of the Golden Trio waltzing into his classroom made Snape's headache even nastier than before.

Well, Granger was admittedly not that bad; just a tad bit annoying with her know-it-all antics.

Weasley; well, Weasley was just stupid.

Then there was Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Irritate-Him. If Snape thought any more on _that_ subject, he was likely to burst a vein.

"Sit down and shut up!" he snapped, thundering to the front of the classroom to take role. A quick black-eyed sweep of the class saw no one absent. Joy, oh joy. _Longbottom_ was here.

A sharp flick of his wand revealed the instructions for the day's lesson on the blackboard (a particularly nasty healing potion). He heard a few groans, mainly from the Gryffindors, and took points accordingly.

Even though his headache was back in force, he dared not miss his usual swooping among the cauldrons to take points, sneer at Gryffindors and praise the Slytherins. Longbottom, predictably, had gotten the potion completely fouled up.

"Green, Longbottom," said Snape with a dangerous air to his voice. Neville fidgeted under the black stare and refused to meet his teacher's gaze. "Can you tell me what colour it's _supposed_ to be? Or is that a bit too difficult for your tiny brain to comprehend?"

A few of the Slytherins chuckled at this comment, while most of the Gryffindors turned red with anger. Typical. Let's see; how far could he push them before he got an excuse to take away more points?

Not very far, most assuredly. As he turned to glide away to check on those in the back, he distinctively heard Weasley mutter, "Greasy git."

Immediately Snape was upon the red-haired boy, hardly two inches away from his face and giving him a glare that could freeze daisies in summer. "10 points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, for failing to show a teacher proper respect," he said silkily. The boy's face flushed a brilliant red to clash horribly with his hair.

"If the teacher deserved respect, Ron would show it," said Potter defiantly.

Severus's lip curled into a nasty sneer. "Another 10 points, Potter, and a detention with Filch as well." Potter glared at him, but Granger elbowed him in the ribs and he wisely held his tongue.

Feeling particularly vengeful today, Snape lingered a moment longer than necessary over the boys' cauldrons, just so their potions couldn't possibly be correct when they turned them in at the end of the period. Granger noticed and frowned, but since when did the most feared teacher in Hogwarts care if a student made a face at him? Since he couldn't take points away from her, he graced her with a leer and moved on.

After billowing about the dungeons for another ten minutes, Severus alighted at his desk and sat down. He didn't plop this time, but was completely dignified throughout the entire procedure. This was something to be proud of, as his head and backaches had each discovered new heights in regards to pain.

Still, he had his glorious reputation to uphold, and thus kept his back ramrod straight when he dearly wished to hunch over his desk and sleep. Instead of kneading his temples and pinching at the bridge of his nose, he kept a sharp eye on the students and managed to take away 15 more points the Trio before the period finally ended.

"I want four feet on the properties of the healing potion, due next class," Severus announced just before the bell rang. "And do not complain, or I shall make it six!" he added, giving the room of students a terrible glower before they hurriedly exited the classroom to dinner.

Snape sighed in relief and lowered himself gingerly into his chair once again. This time he held no qualms about laying his head onto the cool wood of his desk.

"Bullocks," he muttered to no one in particular, as there was no one there to hear him. He heaved a sigh and sat up, his back groaning in protest. With yet another sigh he began a sort of self-massage on the back of his neck, but this proved unsatisfactory and he soon ceased.

Snape unwillingly found his mind wondering to the Heads of House bathroom. It explored the many different scented soaps and shampoos available (yes, dammit, he washed his hair just like everyone else!), and the wonderfully soothing hot water.

He gazed dreamily at a jar of something green and nasty, his mind awash in images of soaking for an hour or two, before he realized what he was doing and snapped out of it. "I'm behaving like a bloody Hufflepuff," he groaned to himself, blearily rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose again.

The more he sat there, however, and tried _not_ to think about soap bubbles, hot water and fluffy white towels, the more they began to frolic in his mind.

He tried giving himself a smack to banish the images, but that only made his headache worse. Which, in turn, made the bubbles, water and towels all the more appealing.

Five minutes later he gave an indignant roar that rattled the students' potions vials on his desk. He then moodily picked himself up from his chair and skulked his way to the fifth floor, where the bathroom was located (near the prefect's bathroom).

All the way Snape stayed to the shadows, determined not to be seen going to indulge himself in something as Hufflepuff as a long, relaxing _bath._

* * *

Minerva covered her mouth with one hand, concealing a rather large yawn. Today her classes had been rather well-behaved; except for one first-year Ravenclaw who came in smelling too horrible to stay in the classroom. She suspected that this student was part of Severus's "disagreeable morning" he had reluctantly told her about at lunch.

She gave a small grin, wondering just how Poppy Pomfrey had dealt with that particular boy. McGonagall had seen him during her break, wearing a new uniform and looking as if he had gone through one of those Muggle contraptions; what did they all them? Ah, carwashes!

The house elves had prepared a delicious meal tonight of broiled chicken, vegetables and rice pilaf, but the Head of Gryffindor found herself unable to concentrate on her food.

The main reason being that the chair on her left was unoccupied. Her grin faded at that thought and a pensive look settled upon her visage.

"You've noticed too, haven't you," said Pomona Sprout from the other side of Severus's empty chair. Minerva, glad to have someone to talk to, nodded and shoved her plate out of her way.

"As a matter of fact, yes I have," she replied, leaning slightly towards Sprout. Sprout clucked her tongue.

"He seemed in a rather bad mood at lunch," she said, taking a liberal bite of chicken. Minerva waited for her to chew and swallow before carrying on the conversation.

"Severus is always in a bad mod," McGonagall said wryly. Sprout had to smile at that.

"More than usual is what I meant," she said with a wave of her hand. "The way he came in…all hunched up…seemed a right bit stressed." Minerva contemplated this statement and compared it to her own observations of the Potions Master's demeanour. Yes; it fit him perfectly.

At this point, Rolanda Hooch decided to butt into the women's conversation as she was leaving the table. "I wouldn't worry too much about him," she said in her characteristically gruff voice. "Man knows how to care for himself. If he didn't, he'd be a splatter on a dungeon wall years ago. Ta."

As the other walked away, Minerva allowed herself the mental image of a black puddle dripping slowly of the wall in Severus's classroom and had to give a short bark of laughter. Sprout giggled too – apparently her mental image was something similar – and the two women shared a good chuckle.

"Speaking of stress," said Sprout after they had each calmed down, "_you_ look a bit wrung out yourself." The Head of Hufflepuff gave Minerva a knowing look before taking another bite of her meal.

Minerva's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Of all the things Pomona could say, that was the least expected of them all. "Me?" she repeated, her voice echoing her confusion. "But I don't feel the least bit off at all."

Sprout shook her head and swallowed whatever she had been previously chewing. "Perhaps not; but you look it, dear."

Alarmed at this news, Minerva surreptitiously cleared away the scant amount of food on her plate and performed a mirror spell on the china. Instantly her face gazed up at her.

Slightly beady eyes (she had always hated her eyes) looked at her from behind square glasses perched on the edge of a delicate nose. Slight lines in her face, coupled from aging gracefully and the stresses of teaching one of the most difficult subjects, marred otherwise smooth skin. Her slightly longer-than-shoulder-length black hair was pulled out of her face into a smart bun on the back of her head, but she could detect wisps around her ears and the back of her neck.

"I don't see anything –" she began plaintively, but Pomona interrupted.

"Your eyes, dear. Look at your eyes."

Obeying the other teacher's command, Minerva forced herself to look into her own brown orbs. As her most hated feature, she barely paid them any heed; but now, she could see that they definitely showed her as very stressed. Her eyelids dropped with fatigue, dark circles were forming beneath, and her eyes themselves were devoid of any life at all.

"Well," she said, and then, not able to find any words to express herself, closed her mouth and continued to peruse her face.

Sprout patted her arm. "See, dear? Maybe _you_ should take your own advice and head to the Heads' bathroom."

This statement brought Minerva from her reverie, and she let the spell fade away in favour of looking at her friend. "Perhaps I should, at that." Then a sudden thought struck her, causing her cheeks to flush pink.

Sprout, amused by this expression on her usually stern companion's face, smiled. "What is it you're thinking of, Minerva?" she asked kindly, but not without delight.

Minerva refused to meet her gaze now. "What if… well… Severus is there?" She angled her head toward his empty chair. "After all, he certainly isn't here."

Pomona chuckled and gave McGonagall another pat on the arm. "I think you'll be safe in assuming that the Heads' bathroom is the last place in Hogwarts Severus would be," she said, laughter smiling in her voice. "After all, taking a long relaxing bath is quite a Hufflepuff thing to do."

Minerva grinned wryly. "Well, then call me a Hufflepuff," she quipped, "because that's where I'm going. Ta, Pomona." With that, she took a few bites of her meal (a bit cold, but delicious nonetheless) and bid her friend adieu.

"Have a nice time, dear," Pomona called after her as the Head of Gryffindor exited the Great Hall through the door near the Head Table. She nodded to Sprout, allowing a slight smile to grace her lips, before adopting her stern demeanour once again and striding through the door.

All the way to the fifth floor, visions of rose-scented soap (her very favourite) and a bathtub filled with enough hot water to swim in danced in her head. Oh, yes; and fluffy white towels. She grinned. This would be just what she needed.

* * *

A/N: Cliff-hanger! Oh no!

So…how do you like it? Good? Bad? Don't care? I'd like to know!

Oh…and for those reading my other story, I _will_ update that! It was just hard to concentrate on that with this plot bunny hopping around in my head, demanding to be written.

Thanks for reading, and please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Spring is in the Air…

By ShadowBallad

A/N: Wow, thanks for all of the reviews! It made me so happy! And, er, sorry for the lengthy update; I had jaw surgery on the 10th and am swollen, in pain, and sometimes unable to sit up for long periods of time because my pain meds make me sleepy. I also have a lot of homework to make up on account of being out of school. Bleh.

Anywho, I'm giving a gratuitous-fluff warning, just in case. I've never written romance before, so if anyone has any tips or sees any flaws in my story, do tell :) It's also going to be more romance than humour from now on, just to let you know!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and friends (and enemies). If I did, I would be rich instead of dirt poor.

Chapter Two: Soap Bubbles, Hot Water and Unwanted Company

* * *

The fifth-floor corridors were wonderfully empty of students. The shadow skulking along among its brethren was infinitely grateful for this, as it would be rather embarrassed at being caught so far away from its dungeon home. Headed for a bathroom, no less! 

A man dressed completely in black emerged from a rather large shadow cast by a suit of armour. He glanced around at the sound of footsteps and ducked into an alcove in time to avoid two little monsters chatting together. He frowned at them, his black eyes tracking their movements.

"So after dinner, I thought I'd take a nice long bath…my mum sent me this great lavender shampoo that I want to try out…"

"Oohh, can I use some too? My hair feels so dirty!"

"Sure, just don't use it all."

"Hey, it's not like I never wash my hair like a certain professor…" Both girls (chits, rather) laughed at this as they walked away.

Severus Snape knew the comment was aimed at him. He would have dearly loved to jump out from behind the armour and rain down curses and hellfire on them before taking away 100 House Points, screaming about respecting teachers the entire time. That, however, was against the "How to Punish Students" code, and Dumbledore would certainly not appreciate having two piles of ash instead of children. He himself couldn't see why not; he supposed the Headmaster was just strange that way.

Deciding that the chits deserved a little something nasty, he stealthily crept from behind the armour and followed them silently. Whispering an incantation, he aimed his wand at the little bottle the shorter girl was carrying. Nothing seemed to happen; but he knew that come morning, both would have hair reminiscent of a certain Gorgon. He sneered at their backs, hoping that they were in his class tomorrow just so he could take away points for ridiculous hair styles and laugh at them in his head.

Revenge taken care of, the Potions Master skittered along the cobblestones, absently massaging his temples with his long white fingers. He passed the door to the prefect's bathroom without even a sideways glance. If the prefects knew how awful their little washtub compared to the place he was going, they'd likely rebel in outrage.

"I'd like to see how _they_ would look after leaning over cauldrons all day," he snarled to himself. He entertained thoughts of the two girls tragically falling down a staircase and breaking every bone in their havoc-wreaking little bodies.

So engrossed was he in his little daydream that he almost missed the entrance to the Heads of House Bathroom. Grumbling to himself about what nasty little beasts students were, making the teacher forget where he was going, he backtracked and stood in front of an innocuous statue of a wizard with a staff.

Deep down he knew that it was his own fault he missed his door, but insignificant little titbits like that could (and should) always be ignored.

Snape opened his mouth to speak the password, and then stopped as a realization hit him. He didn't know it.

Closing his mouth so as to not look the fool, he glared at the statue and willed it to reveal the secret passage to the bathroom. The wizard merely stared back serenely at him with lifeless stone eyes.

Severus growled obscene things at the statue and thought about hitting it, but changed his mind as the thought occurred to him that that was a good way to break one's wrist. Not to mention one's fingers. If one was a Potions Master, those extremities were vital.

So, he didn't hit the statue.

He moodily kicked it instead.

And promptly regretted it.

"Damn damn damn damn DAMN!" he howled, his rich baritone voice echoing along the hallway and making it sound as if there were thirty Snapes bellowing at the tops of their voices. He hopped a bit on one foot, but then considered how utterly ridiculous he must look and immediately stopped. Pain was easier to deal with than humiliation, after all.

Realizing that physical violence wasn't getting him anywhere, Severus fished his wand out of his sleeve and aimed it at the statue. "_Alohomora_!" he said.

Nothing happened.

Perplexed (and frustrated enough to bite off a student's head should one come wandering around), Severus tried every opening spell he knew. The statue resolutely refused to allow him entrance.

"Damn Minerva," he grumbled to himself as he wrapped his black robes tighter around his thin body. "'Go take a bath, Severus,'" he mimicked in a false high-pitched voice. "The least she could have done was give me the bloody password!"

He favoured the wizard with another glare that would have sent a Hufflepuff to the hospital wing in hysterics. Figuring that Albus was responsible for this password as well as the others in the castle, he grudgingly fired off all the sweets he knew of.

Well, his knowledge of candy (foolish stuff) wasn't anywhere near extensive, and soon he was back to where he had begun. Stuck outside the bathroom, freezing in a corridor getting colder every minute, and separated from hot water and soap bubbles by a mere wall.

_Hot water. Not soap bubbles._ Merlin forbid he, Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin and one-time Death Eater, should be fantasizing about bloody soap bubbles!

By now, he was getting rather desperate. Dismissing all the nasty words he knew (goody-goody Albus would _never_ use those!), he decided to use the most clichéd phrase he knew. "Dammit! … Open Sesame!"

He felt very stupid saying such a Muggle thing, and didn't really expect it to work. It was more of a last-resort, if-the-damn-door-doesn't-open-I'm-leaving-right-bloody-now sort of thing.

It worked.

Deciding not to ponder what Albus had been on the day he decided to use _that_ as a password, Severus slipped inside, grateful to be out of the drafty corridor.

As the wizard statue grinded back into place, the Potions Master gazed about him at the most wonderful sight his eyes had given him that day.

The entire room was made of white marble; the walls, floor, sunken tub, ceiling; all of it. He rather thought black would have given the room more character; but alas, what could he say? Not everyone possessed his immaculate tastes.

The tub itself was the size of a large swimming pool, and (to his joy, although he'd never admit it under torture), was already filled to brimming with hot water. He felt his lips twitching into a smile, and promptly swatted his face. None of that foolishness here!

His headache begged to differ, however, and sent a particularly sharp twinge of pain ricocheting through his skull. Snape winced and bit back a yelp. Deftly he began to massage his temples, taking a few moments to curse Potter and his friends (and students in general) before continuing his perusal of the bathroom.

A gigantic, candle-filled chandelier hung above, the flames dancing merrily and casting friendly shadows upon the walls. Just like the prefect's bathroom, about a hundred taps lined the pool (each set with a different jewel), and in a corner on a golden rack was a stack of fluffy white towels and wash rags.

Severus inhaled deeply, imagining the scent of his favourite spiced bubble bath filling the entire chamber, before setting out on the arduous task of actually locating the tap. He thought he found it once, but upon turning it, he discovered that it was rose-scented.

"Blech!" he snorted, shutting the tap off immediately. If there was any scent he hated more than odour of exploding cauldron, it was rose. Severus didn't really know why he hated it; perhaps it was a bit too feminine and innocent for someone like him.

At any rate he finally discovered the spice tap, and twisted it open with a flourish. He greedily watched as green-tinged foam coated the top of the water. His skin itched for him to jump in and submerge himself in the water and bubbles, but he forced himself to patiently wait until the process was complete.

A few agonizing minutes later, the tap ceased spouting out bubble bath of its own accord, and the entire bathroom was awash in the scent of sandalwood and rosemary, among many other delectable spices.

Infinitely delighted, Severus Summoned a fluffy white towel from the rack, and deposited it gently on the floor tiles next to the tub's rim. It really was very soft, he thought as his long fingers brushed over it. And fluffy.

"Bother," he growled to himself when he realized he was kneeling next to a towel, petting it. He moodily undid the clasp on his cloak and let it billow to the ground, looking very much like a dark shadow lying on the white tiles. The professor busied himself with removing his black frock coat, the black vest underneath, and finally his white dress shirt. The air in the bathroom was pleasantly warm against his bare skin (because of the water, no doubt). After folding these into a neat pile, he removed his black boots, socks, trousers and underwear and added them to it.

The tiles were cool under his bare feet, but a few steps submerged them into glorious hot water. Not really caring anymore what people would think if they saw him enjoying a bath, Severus allowed a sigh to escape his lips as he lowered the rest of his body into the luxuriant water.

Allowing a slight smile to curve his thin face, Snape lunged out and did a few laps in the pool-sized bathtub. _For a Gryffindor, Minerva did offer good advice_, he thought as the water lapped at his skin and caressed his sore muscles. Well, sometimes she did. Not often, though. Hardly ever, come to think of it. As far as he could remember, this was the best advice she'd given him all year. He'd never really forgive her for suggesting he try liver and onions.

After his body was soothed by the flow of water over it, Severus swam up to the rim and sat down on one of the ledges near the spiced soap tap. His hair was now home to green-tinged foam, but he found he didn't care how ridiculous he looked. It felt good!

Realizing that he didn't have a wash rag, he reluctantly dragged himself out of the water and dripped to his wand and Summoned one. "_Accio_ rag," he said in a relaxed voice that surprised him. The rag floated over to him, and he snatched it out of the air and returned to the tub, shivering slightly. After being in hot water for ten minutes, getting out doesn't feel quite as good as it did before. In fact, it was rather uncomfortable, and prompted him to dive in instead of enter gracefully as he had done before.

"Mmm…" he sighed as he settled himself back by the spice tap. He squirted some of the soap onto the rag and set to the process of cleaning himself off. If he hadn't been the Head of Slytherin and ex-Death Eater to boot, he might have described the whole process as "heavenly." But, that word didn't suit him, so he later told himself that it felt rather nice; end of story.

After finishing his wash and swimming about to rinse himself off, Severus dived under water. Despite the green foam on top, the water was crystal clear underneath (even though it stung his eyes just a bit when he opened them). To his surprise, he saw little jewels in the tiles along the bottom and sides of the tub. Following a line of green ones (for Slytherin, naturally), he surfaced near a shampoo tap. Turning it on deposited mint-coloured goop into his hands. He sniffed tentatively at it, and discovered that it was a rather poignant spice.

"I wonder if this bathroom can adapt to its users preferences?" he murmured to himself. Then, after realizing that he was talking to himself (bad bad bad thing to do!), he grimaced and deposited the shampoo onto his head and began to massage it into his long black hair.

He supposed he looked rather a sight; his thin, stick-like body poking out of green foam-covered water and his hair smothered in green shampoo. But, for the first time in…well, a long time, he found that he didn't give a damn. Besides, if anyone came in the bathroom and saw him in his current state, they wouldn't live long enough to tell the tale!

* * *

After Minerva left the Great Hall, she fairly floated her way up corridors and staircases. Her head was filled with images of a long soak in hot water covered in pink, rose-scented soap bubbles. And, for once in quite a while, she was actually looking forward to letting her hair out of the tight bun and letting it drift lazily about her in the water. 

Idly she wondered where Severus had gotten off to. It wasn't like him to skip a meal, even if he didn't eat very much. Minerva snorted at that thought. With all the duties the man had to carry out – teach, brew potions for Poppy, and spy on He-Who—all right, _V-Voldemort_—he really needed learn to take better care of himself.

She doubted very much he'd like to faint in front of his students from exhaustion. It would humiliate him to no end. Of course, being a prime example of the male gender, he refused to listen to reason when it was presented to him.

The Head of Gryffindor shook her head in fond exasperation. _Men_, she thought to herself.

So engrossed was she in her thoughts that she barely registered the fact that two students were with her in the stone corridor until one of them brushed up against her sleeve. "Oh, sorry Professor McGonagall," said the shorter girl with a smile.

Minerva blinked once, a bit surprised to find that she was not as alone as she had thought a moment before. "It's all right," she said automatically, giving the girl an absent-minded pat on the shoulder.

As the teacher was walking away from the students, they began their conversation once again. "Anyway, it's supposed to be really good for split ends and such," one said brightly. "Merlin knows my hair is awful that way…"

"Let me smell it again; I absolutely adore lavender," the other replied.

"You're weird; it's just shampoo!"

"So?"

As the girls' voices faded away, Minerva found that she had stopped moving to listen. Feeling ashamed at having eavesdropped, she quickly began walking again and presently came to a staircase. Even though it was a rather mundane sight, she felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. This staircase led to the fifth floor, where her destination awaited her presence!

Feeling infinitely happier, she allowed a pleasant smile to grace her lips before mounting the first step. Her stout boots echoed against the stones as she climbed the staircase, but every sound was oddly comforting to her.

_Just remember, the password is 'Open Sesame,'_ Minerva reminded herself. She allowed an affectionate snort to issue from her nose for the Headmaster. Quite the character, Albus.

Minerva stepped off at the top of the staircase, gazing down the corridor lined with happily blazing torches. Armed with the thought that the Heads of House Bathroom wasn't too far away, she set off eagerly down the hallway.

Merlin, she was looking forward to this!

* * *

The Bathroom's current occupant was blissfully unaware that he was about to receive company. To his delight, he had discovered a switch near the shallow end of the tub that activated strong jet streams of hot water. 

Now, he was relaxing on a ledge, allowing the jet stream to massage his aching back and neck.

It was divine.

Severus sighed, perfectly content with life at the moment. "Mmm…" he groaned as a particularly achy neck muscle was treated to the pummelling force of the jet stream. Inky black hair – newly cleansed and relieved of the green foam and shampoo – fell about his face. The longer tendrils floated near his shoulders, swirling in the currents from the jet streams.

As he allowed the water to soothe him, he allowed his mind to wander. _Why the blazes did I even think of _not_ coming here_? he asked himself. It was as near to a perfect evening as he could possibly imagine. Alone, able to relish the quite and solitude of the moment. No students, no colleagues…just Severus, hot water, and spiced soap bubbles.

Ah…yes. Perfect.

* * *

Had Minerva been any lesser person, she might have squealed in utter rapture upon seeing the statue of the wizard with the staff. But, being the Head of Gryffindor and in total control of her emotions, she allowed herself to grin like an idiot instead. 

After all, it _was_ cause to celebrate.

Barely restraining herself from jumping up and down, clapping her hands in joy, she approached the statue and cleared her throat.

"Open Sesame," she said, noticing that her voice was positively quivering in anticipation. _So much for self-control_, she thought with self-depreciating amusement. Thank Merlin Albus had had the foresight to install a bathroom for the Heads of Houses as well as the prefects. She, Severus, Pomona and Filius all had considerably more duties to perform than the other teachers, who were merely concerned with lesson plans, grading tests and homework, and what guilty pleasure to indulge in when the day was over.

If she could have made the statue grind away any faster, she would have. Chucking patience and dignity out the window, she dashed inside the opening as soon as she was sure she could fit inside.

* * *

After a surprisingly short amount of time, Severus was thrilled to discover that the pain in his back and neck had virtually disappeared. He pushed off from the ledge and began to swim, his long slender arms arching gracefully before disappearing beneath the water. 

By now the green-tinted foam was barely a slight film covering the water, as opposed to the thick covering it had been before. The water, however, was just as warm and soothing as ever (another fact Severus was infinitely grateful for, but would never admit under torture).

Once again he decided to swim underwater, enjoying the feeling of his body being embraced by the water's warmth. As he gracefully dove beneath the thin lining of green film, the statue outside ground open.

* * *

Minerva entered the white marble bathroom and was immediately struck by a powerful, but not unpleasant, odour of spices. She looked to the water, which was covered in a sort of green film. Deciding that the smell was coming from that, she shrugged it off and walked to the rack holding the fluffy white towels and wash rags. 

So intent was she in getting a towel that she didn't notice the pile of black clothes lying upon the marble tiles. It might have saved them both a lot of embarrassment if she did, but alas, she didn't.

Feeling her muscles begin to relax in the warm damp air, Minerva happily selected the fluffiest towel on the rack, humming a little tune as she did so. She plucked the fluffiest wash rag of the bunch as well – _Consistency, not greed_ – and made her way to a place near the edge.

Turning her back on the water, she removed her tartan shawl and began on her green robes.

* * *

Behind her, Severus came up for air, as silent and graceful as a shadow parting the waters. 

If his back hadn't been turned to Minerva, he might have noticed her presence immediately and saved them both a lot of embarrassment. But alas, he didn't.

As he brushed the wet black hair from his face, he did notice something that hadn't been there before. It sounded like humming.

Feeling so relaxed that he thought nothing could perturb him at the moment, he lazily turned around.

And froze.

* * *

Minerva had just removed her heavy green teaching robe when a peculiar sound reached her ears. It sounded like dripping water. 

Feeling so happy that she thought nothing could bother her at the moment, she turned around.

And immediately stopped humming.

Black eyes gazed into brown, surprise and shock mirrored in each.

Minerva felt her cheeks flush pink as she watched Severus's face lose what little colour it initially possessed.

The Head of Slytherin was standing naked in the shallow end of the pool-sized tub, green film-covered water lapping gently a little below his thin waist. Raven-black hair fell to his shoulders, dripping water as he stood staring at her. She couldn't stop her eyes roving over his painfully slender but toned chest; couldn't stop herself from noticing that his ribs were just a bit too prominent; and – Merlin help her! – she just couldn't help but admire the way the base of his ribcage sloped down into his flat, solid stomach.

However much she unconsciously (and perhaps consciously) wanted to stand there and gawk at his body, her perusal was cut short as he squawked indignantly and hunkered down in the water so it now lapped at his chin.

She only had time to feel a little disappointed before he exploded like a firecracker.

"MINERVA MCGONAGALL!"

* * *

Oh, another cliff hanger :runs and hides: 

So, how did you like it this time? Once again I apologise for the lengthy update. But, I do have a lot of work to catch up on (on top of recovering) so please take this in consideration before chucking the tomato at me!

Next chapter is going to be fun! Severus and Minerva argue, Minerva leaves and runs into her friends, who convince her to pursue Snape, and then she goes back to another round of arguing. I think it's going to be one of the more humorous chapters.

Thanks for reading, and please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Spring Is In the Air…

By ShadowBallad

A/N: Wow, an update. Hallelujah! Um. Sorry it took so long…no excuses this time except my friend lending me the Fruits Basket manga series. It's her fault! No, seriously!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and friends (and enemies). If I did, I would be rich instead of dirt poor.

Chapter Three: Arguments, Pep Talks, and More Arguments

* * *

_However much she unconsciously (and perhaps consciously) wanted to stand there and gawk at his body, her perusal was cut short as he squawked indignantly and hunkered down in the water so it now lapped at his chin._

_She only had time to feel a little disappointed before he exploded like a firecracker._

"_MINERVA MCGONAGALL!"_

At any other given time, being shouted at by Severus Snape would have made her indignant. His eyes became storm clouds ready to rain down their wrath upon unsuspecting mortals, and his voice…well. Enough said.

Now, however, all she could do was laugh.

Being threatened by a man standing naked in a bathtub just wasn't all that frightening. Hilarious was actually the word that came to mind.

Severus being Severus, he of course did not find the situation at all amusing.

"What the bloody hell are you laughing at, Minerva?" he snarled, sending a massive I-hate-you glower in her direction. He was still hunkered down in the water, arms crossed defensively over his chest. Pity that.

"I…it's…just so _ironic_!" she managed to wheeze in between fits of giggles. By now the Transfiguration professor was doubled over, clutching her sides in laughter.

"Your amusement is most assuredly NOT mutual," said Severus in a decidedly icy tone.

Minerva wiped a tear from her eye, coughed, and attempted to stand up. One glance at Snape was all it took to dissolve her composure, though.

"I'm so sorry!" she laughed as he glared up at her balefully. Suddenly he lunged out and floated up to the edge a few steps from her feet, apparently sitting on a ledge underwater.

"Care to enlighten me?" he asked, quirking a slender eyebrow at her in annoyance.

The hysterical laughter of moments before was now replaced by slightly repressed giggles. Giggles a school girl might share with a friend when discussing a school girl crush. Minerva dearly hoped her face wasn't turning pink. For some reason, Severus's sudden move to closer proximity had given her a funny feeling in her chest.

She cleared her throat, unwilling to walk down that particular road right now. "Well…it's just that I never expected you to follow my advice at lunch, and –"

"Why not?"

Minerva blinked at the sharp interruption. "Why not what, Severus?" she questioned, rather perplexed. But still giggly. Dammit. Er…darn it, rather. Gryffindors don't curse, no they don't!

Snape rolled his eyes dramatically. "_Why_ did you _not_ think I would follow your advice?" he repeated as if speaking to a rather slow five-year-old.

The giggles vanished as rapidly as they had come at his patronizing tone. She would NOT be talked down to, especially not by a naked man in a bathtub thirty years her junior!

"Don't take that tone with me!" she said, giving him a stern look that dared him to disobey.

"I can, and will if I wish to do so!" he snapped back. Apparently he took the dare. Well, wasn't Rolanda always saying men weren't especially smart?

"I was just amused by the fact that you were here! You aren't known by your willingness to indulge in something as "Hufflepuff" as a bath, you know," she said, willing herself to keep her temper.

Severus, however, seemed determined to make an argument out of whatever she said. "Oh, really. So you're saying that you think I don't _bathe_?" He propped his elbows on the tiles and glared up at her. It was amazing that he could make her feel two inches tall when he was the one on the shorter end of the "discussion."

"I didn't say that, Severus," Minerva said placatingly.

"You didn't need to. You insinuated it."

"How!" There went the make-the-man-calm-down strategy out the window.

"By basically saying that I don't bathe."

"I did NOT say that!"

"Yes, you did."

"I didn't, Severus, and you KNOW it!"

"Yes, you did. You said that I am not known to indulge in baths," he said calmly. It was rather amazing how calm his voice could sound while his eyes glared daggers at her.

"I meant _here_, Severus," Minerva retorted through clenched teeth. Someone was in danger of losing his head if he didn't shut up.

"Just because I do not bathe _here_ does not mean that I do not bathe at all."

"I. Did. Not. Say. That." _Count to ten, Minerva. Count to ten…_

"Yes. You. Did." _Sod counting to ten! Just bite his head off!_

"I will not argue with you about this, Severus!" the Head of Gryffindor practically shrieked. What WAS it about this man that made her lose her composure so thoroughly?

"Might I point out that you still are?" came the cool reply. Ah, yes. THAT part.

Minerva's mouth worked furiously, unable to supply a biting comeback. It would, after all, prove his point that she was still arguing with him. Ah well. If he wanted to act childishly, she could very well play right along with him.

Without further adieu, she began the insults.

"You insufferable, cold-hearted, sarcastic lump of – of – phlegm!" she shouted with as much ire as she could put into each word.

It did not have the desired effect.

Quirking a dark eyebrow, Snape gazed up at her unfazed.

Then he had the _audacity_ to YAWN!

"Are you quite finished, Minerva?" he asked, sounding as if cleaning bedpans would be more interesting than having this discussion with her.

Wondering just when her usually impressive intellect decided to go on holiday, Minerva could only glare at him with all the venom she possessed.

"I am _through_ arguing with you, Severus!" she said tartly, reaching down to gather her green outer robe and tartan shawl.

"Oh, goody," he said sarcastically. "Is this the part where you leave, and I return to my bath in peace?"

Not even deigning to answer, Minerva swept out of the Heads of House Bathroom, hands clutching her robes in a death clasp and dearly wishing it was Snape's throat they were gripping instead.

* * *

Severus watched Minerva's retreating figure with triumphant satisfaction. It served her right, bursting in here to gawk at him as if he were on display at a Muggle circus. He was NOT a one-man freak show, thank you very much.

The fact that she laughed at him, and then had the audacity to stand there and argue down at him as if he were a delinquent student, irked him. More than he'd care to admit, really.

_Why, though_? His inner voice asked as he shoved away from the wall and floated on the nearly foamless water. It wasn't the first time she had done either.

Well, it was the first time she'd done both while he was standing nude in a bathtub, but that was beside the point.

He ran his hand through the water idly, enjoying the feeling of warm water slipping through his fingers as he mulled over the mystery that was Minerva. _Why_ did she show up after giving him advice to come here as well? Did she mean for this to happen? Or did she really believe that he never bathed?

Humph. At least THAT misconception was cleared up for her. Maybe she'd spread the news and people would stop insinuating that he avoided water like the plague.

Then again, maybe it would not be such a good idea for her to tell everyone she saw him naked in the bath. People might get the wrong ideas.

Then again, maybe not. After all, _she_ hadn't been naked too. Although _that _wouldn't have been such a bad turn, really.

Severus stopped dead in mid-stroke, instantly sinking beneath the surface and coming up choking on water. Where had THAT thought come from?

The Potions Master spat out foam-flavoured water and swam over to a ledge to ponder this shocking turn of events. Apparently his sub-conscious was leading a revolution against him, along with his imagination.

_Or maybe, you genuinely thought she looked rather nice in her black under robe_, the pesky inner voice slyly hinted. He shuddered at the thought, but the mental image of Minerva's robe fitting gracefully over soft feminine curves just wouldn't leave his mind.

_She has a great body for someone her age, you know_, Inner Voice supplied, adding insult to injury as the mental robe dissolved and a highly stylized nude Minerva blushed becomingly in his mind.

"Stop it!" he screeched, feeling his face growing red as Imaginary-Minerva pouted seductively at him.

_You know you like it_, said Inner Voice dismissively.

"No I don't, dammit!" This was all becoming too much to handle. Severus was about to bang his head on a random tap (surely the pain would make HER go away) when he stopped and truly analyzed the situation.

"Oh gods," he muttered, flinging himself into the water for an invigorating swim.

He was talking to himself. And Self was answering back.

He mentally calculated that ten laps would sufficiently tire him out until normality was regained.

Later, he would look back and scoff at how incredibly wrong he had been.

* * *

To say that Minerva McGonagall was angry would have been a vast understatement. To put it bluntly, she was positively furious!

How DARE the man kick her out of a bathroom she had as much right in using as he did! How DARE he be there in the first place, when she wanted nothing more than to relax for a few hours in the bath!

Resisting the urge to kick a nearby suit of armour over, Minerva stalked her way down to the staff room. She gave the portraits a glare that would have instantly soured milk when they asked her if she was feeling all right. Needless to say, they shut up rather quickly.

Damn Severus! Damn him for being so cool and calm while he argued with her! Damn him for never losing his composure while she fell into angry little pieces! Damn him for having such a nice body and not letting her look at it long enough!

At that thought, Minerva froze at the end of the staircase she had been stomping down. Merlin, where had THAT come from? She shook her head slowly, but try as she might, the image of Severus standing in the water as it lapped about his waist just wouldn't go away.

She blushed profusely when she suddenly realized that she didn't want it to.

With a sigh, she took up her course and was soon a few paces from the staff room door. Despite the chill air of Hogwarts at night, she still carried her outer robes and shawl in her arms. She was far too distracted to put them on, anyway.

Could it be that she got so worked up because she had failed in placating him? She fought to rationally analyze the problem in her mind. She, Minerva, had entered the bathroom where he, Severus, had been bathing. She had made _him_ angry. Then, she had felt an overwhelming need to calm him down. When that failed, _she_ had finally gotten angry.

Of course it had happened in a matter of moments, so it was impossible to say exactly when each stage had occurred. She frowned to herself, deep in contemplation as she absently opened the door and stepped inside.

"Minerva! Whatever are you doing in here, dear?" The Transfiguration teacher was jolted from her thoughts at the sound of a rather concerned voice. She blinked as the voice was joined with a face, finding Pomona Sprout standing a few feet in front of her.

Rolanda Hooch sat on the sofa by a roaring fire, holding a cup of tea and what looked suspiciously like a bottle of brandy.

"Hmm?" Minerva intoned, rather disconcerted at finding her two friends in the staff room.

"Didn't you say that you were off to take a bath in the Heads' Bathroom, dear?" asked Pomona as she guided Minerva by the arm to the sofa. Rolanda scooted over to make room for the other two women, careful not to spill her drink in the process.

Minerva sighed bitterly. "Well, technically I did," she said dryly, pouring herself a cup of tea. She thought about adding some of Rolanda's brandy, but decided not to. McGonagall and alcohol did not get along well, as a few Christmas parties in the past had taught her.

"Then why are you here?" Pomona gazed at her quizzically.

Heaving a sigh, Minerva launched into her tale, occasionally stopping to sip at her tea. "After that, I got so angry that I left," she said.

Pomona clucked her tongue disapprovingly, setting her own drink down on the table in front of them. Minerva looked at her, slightly confused.

"Why did you _leave_, dear?" she asked, giving Minerva her full attention.

McGonagall gazed in astonishment at her friend. "He was _angry_, Pomona!" she exclaimed, tea completely forgotten. "Only a fool would confront Severus Snape when he's angry!"

Pomona shook her head as if her friend had gone mental. "But Minerva, he was standing in the _bath_," she said, eyes shining oddly. A sudden pink blush tinged her cheeks. "Well, it obviously means that…he…well…" The blush deepened.

Ah. Minerva thought she knew where this was headed. She smiled nastily at her friend. "It means that he was _naked_," she said.

Pomona was now positively scarlet.

"Well, yes, of course he would be…given that he's in the bath…"

"Man has a nice bum."

Minerva and Pomona gaped at Rolanda. She gazed back at them, her yellow eyes shining in the firelight.

"Well he does," she said unrepentantly. With that, she took a decisive sip of tea-and-brandy before placing it on the table.

Minerva was positive her face would soon set the table on fire. She did have to concede, however, that Rolanda was, in fact, right.

It was Pomona who bravely spoke after this brazen comment with one of her own. "I always thought…well, I think his voice sounds like dark chocolate wrapped in black velvet." Now it was Minerva and Rolanda's turn to gape at the usually soft-spoken Head of Hufflepuff. Only, Minerva was shocked, and Rolanda was appreciative.

"Aye, I've always thought the same," she said happily, taking a drink and smacking her lips. "Now, his _eyes…_man's eyes are like looking into black diamonds." She and Pomona shared a decidedly girlish giggle.

Minerva sat to the right of them, feeling rather disconcerted to hear her thoughts spoken out loud by two other women. A finger jabbing her in the ribs caused her to look up into their shining faces.

"You're the one who saw him naked," said Rolanda bluntly, causing Minerva to blush even more. "What did he look like?"

Minerva gazed at them incredulously. Hooch looked rather like a lion thinking about its next meal, while Sprout reminded her strongly of a schoolgirl nursing a crush. She hesitated a moment, knowing that all three would be ritually tortured if Severus knew they were talking about him like this. _Ah, what the Hell could he do? He's in the bath!_

Her embarrassment effectively dissolved, she allowed a wicked grin to settle on her normally stern face. "Well…"

After she told them exactly what he looked like – in acute detail – as he stood in the water, all three were reduced to giggling and blushing like teenagers. Somehow brandy ended up in each woman's cup, which accounted for half of the deepened blushes.

"Hell, I would'a paid good gold to have seen 'im!" crowed Rolanda, reaching around Pomona to give Minerva a hearty slap on the back. The Head of Hufflepuff had giggled her way into happy tears, and was dabbing at her smiling eyes with a fluffy yellow handkerchief.

"Oh Minerva, how could you have just _left_ him standing there?" she asked merrily.

Minerva opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly did not have an excuse to offer. "I, I don't know!" she spluttered, realizing just how dim-witted she had been in leaving.

"Well, then whatever are you doing sitting here with _us, _dear?" Pomona demanded jovially, getting to her feet. Rolanda followed suit, and both women jerked Minerva from her place on the couch and dragged her to the door. They needn't have, really; she knew what they were about, and was quite keen to do what they wanted.

"Go back, Minerva!" Rolanda ordered. "Be our representative in the bathroom! See the sights for us!" Her speech was interrupted by a small hiccup, leading Minerva to suspect that the tea-to-alcohol ratio was slightly in favour of the brandy.

"Yes, dear! Go on, off with you!" Pomona said, giving her a hug.

Caught up in the euphoria of the moment, Minerva could only laugh and hug her friends. She didn't stop to think how Severus might take this new turn of events, for at the moment, she didn't really care.

Fairly floating along, she swept out of the staff room to calls of "good luck!" from Rolanda and Pomona. The cold castle air that assaulted her was ignored as she climbed the stairs that would lead her to her destination.

Right now, the only thing on her mind was the prize waiting unsuspectingly in the Heads of House Bathroom.

* * *

"Bugger," Severus panted, leaning against the edge of the bathtub. He had been in the middle of his fifteenth lap – Imaginary Minerva had been rather stubborn about leaving him be – when his body called.

The Potions Master heaved himself out of the water, a truly magnificent feat when considering how tired he was at having swum so much. He stumbled a bit, but managed to snatch his towel before making his way to the loo.

After he relieved himself, he resolved to either keep swimming until Imaginary Minerva went away, or he passed out from exhaustion and drowned.

* * *

Minerva was rather disconcerted at finding the bathroom empty when she stepped inside.

Actually, emotionally devastated would have been closer to the turmoil she felt deep inside.

"Nooo!" she wailed in complete despair. How was she to tell Pomona and Rolanda what he looked like – all of him! – if he wasn't there! She crumpled to the ground, feeling like a failure and wanting nothing more than to bury her head in her hands and cry.

Just as she was about to give into temptation, she realized something that she had overlooked. Yes, the bathroom was empty. That meant…she could take a bath now!

Suddenly very happy again (no doubt a side-effect of the brandy in her tea), Minerva happily dumped her shawl and outer robes onto the tiles. Soon her black under robe, grey shift, and intimates followed.

Gleefully she stepped into the water, sighing in delight as the warmth soothed the muscles in her legs.

Now, if only Severus was here…then she would be truly happy!

* * *

Truth be told, Severus _was_ there. In the middle of using the loo, he heard a decidedly feminine voice wailing. Although he would never admit it under torture, it had startled him. Nearly bashing his head against the wall in his stupidity of leaving his wand Out There, the Head of Slytherin crept forward.

When he leaned his head around the door jamb, a heavenly sight met his eyes.

Minerva McGonagall stood in the bath, her gloriously nude profile standing out against the clearness of the water.

She was pleasantly curvy, but not overly so. Her legs were rather shapely, her arms long and slender, and her breasts seemed rather firm.

Of course, he couldn't tell for sure from his current vantage point. He felt his face heat up, but didn't care. He felt horribly happy at the moment as he watched her slip fully into the water. In one smooth motion she let down her raven hair and floated on her back in the water. His eyes roved over each strand as her tresses spread around her like a sort of black halo.

Her skin looked so soft…he just wanted to touch it…

Severus mentally slapped himself at that thought. He felt vaguely ashamed about lusting over the woman as she bathed unawares, but was reminded of the way she had looked him over when their places had been reversed.

Deciding that Fate was finally on his side, he settled down to watch, his ebony eyes never leaving her form.

* * *

Minerva heaved a sigh of contentment as she swam through the water. No wonder Severus had wanted her gone; enjoying this bath all alone was a rare treat! She did a few backstrokes and swam underwater for good measure before surfacing to wash herself off.

Absently she noted that the spice-scented green foam that had been there earlier was gone. When the thought truly hit her through her happiness-induced haze, a smile lit up her face.

"Mmm…rose…" she breathed, swimming over to the foam taps to search for her absolute favourite scent. Minerva hummed a little tune as she did so, crying out it triumph when she found the small pink jewelled tap.

"Yes!" she said to herself. Just as she reached out to twist it on, an annoyed voice shouted out at her.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

She looked up into the obsidian eyes of Severus Snape, clad only in his bath towel.

Suddenly thoughts of rose-scented soap bubbles fled her mind as her promise to Rolanda and Pomona took precedence.

She allowed her eyes to flow from his head to his slender waist to his legs and back up again before answering. "I'm about to take a bath, Severus," she said matter-of-factly. "I should think it would be obvious to someone of your purported intelligence." She mentally applauded herself at how cool and composed she sounded. And her intellect had returned from wherever it had gone earlier!

Snape's lip curled up into his signature sneer, but tonight there was something lacking in it. "I _was_ using this bathroom before you oh so rudely invited yourself in," he said icily.

She met his gaze with a level stare. "Well, obviously you're not anymore," she said. His eyes narrowed at this, but she ignored it. "And obviously, I am. You've had a good hour or so of it to yourself. I think it's high time my turn came around." With this she reached out to turn on the rose tap.

Quick as lightning Severus's hand was on top of hers, preventing it from turning the tap. Her heart started beating a bit faster in her chest at the contact, but this too was ignored. Right now, the man was standing between her and her bubble bath. It was NOT a good situation for him to be in.

"I am still using this bathroom," he snarled through clenched teeth. "And as long as I am using it, I will not have that stench foul up the air!"

No one came between Minerva McGonagall and her rose-scented bubble bath. Not even the Head of Slytherin House! "Tough luck." Giving him a glare along the lines of his own, she roughly jerked on the handle.

In retrospect, perhaps she jerked a bit too hard. Oh, the bubble bath came out fine. If you can call a torrent of pink foam spluttering in your face fine. Naturally Minerva jerked back out of the way of the spray as it hit the water.

The only problem was, she forgot that Snape had hold of her hand.

And when she jerked back, he jerked forward with her.

Later she would be astounded at her own display of strength.

Now, however, she had to deal with the fact that her strength had pulled Severus into the bathtub.

On top of her.

* * *

A/N: Wow, this took forever to update! I'm so sorry! I originally planned to have it out in time for Valentine's Day (since it is a romance story of sorts), but that didn't happen.

I hope you like this chapter! Now I have an important question. Should I up the rating to M for more…ahem…_romance_, or leave it be?

You choose your fate:)

Thanks for reading, and thanks for all the reviews! They made me so happy! (sob sob)

Cheers,

Ballad


	4. Chapter 4

Spring is in the Air…

By ShadowBallad

A/N: Once again, thanks for all the reviews! They make me so happy! Also, I have decided to keep the story T, but I might add an M-rated epilogue for those of you who want _romance_. I hope this is satisfactory:) There is also some angst in this chapter…perhaps some OOCness too, but please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and friends (and enemies). If I did, I would be rich instead of dirt poor.

* * *

Chapter Four: Advances, Discussions and The Kiss

To say that Severus Snape was mortified would be an understatement. In fact, it was rather closer to being the understatement of the century. Or of the entire world.

All he could do was stare down in shock at the woman lying below him, submerged up to her chin in rose-scented water, gazing at him in equal astonishment. He could feel his face warming up. Inside he grimaced at what he thought must have been a particularly ugly sight for Minerva. Blushing with his skin tone only made him look worse than he usually thought he did.

The two were frozen in their current position for a moment longer before Snape regained his senses and hastily made to scuttle away. A thousand apologies were on the tip of his tongue, but before he could say anything, Minerva made a peculiar sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh. Feeling nothing else could humiliate him more – Merlin knows he'd rather be tortured than humiliated, dammit! – he followed her gaze.

Well, as it turned out, he hadn't sunk below his prescribed level of humility just yet.

There, floating innocently atop the pink foam, was his towel. He didn't know how it got from his waist to over there, but that was really beside the point.

The real issue was: he was completely naked – again – in front of Minerva. Who, as a matter of fact, didn't look the least bit mortified anymore. Joy.

Severus immediately scrambled away from her, feeling his face burning uncomfortably in the already warm air. "I…I…" he tried to apologize, but when words failed to come, he shut his mouth and clamped down on his jaw. Severus Snape was _never_ speechless. Severus Snape _always_ knew what to say.

Except when he found himself naked in a bathtub with an equally naked women. Who, as a side note, was actually rather appealing.

This thought made him blush even more (was that even possible?), and he averted his eyes from her face. He wouldn't be able to look McGonagall in the face for _years_ after this.

At the height of his discomfort, a strange sound reached his ears. It sounded like giggling. He frowned to himself. Snape looked up and, to his immense surprise, found Minerva McGonagall gazing at him in amusement, a slender hand curved gracefully around her lips.

And giggling in a most un-Minerva-ish sort of way.

He continued to gape at her as she continued to giggle, flinching as she progressed to a full-out guffaw.

Needless to say, he was confused. In his experience (what little of it he had, anyway), women didn't like to have unwanted company in the bath. Perhaps she was laughing at his foolishness and the horrible way in which she planned to do him in?

"Er…Minerva? Are, er, are you all right?" he spluttered, inching away from her a bit more.

She gave him a Look that clearly told him he was being a twat. "Well of course, Severus," she said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He fidgeted. "Well…I just…landed on top of you…in the bath," he said, feeling as if each word was being pulled out of him by force.

Once again, she giggled at him, her brown eyes shining with mirth. "Oh, don't apologize for that!" she said with a smile. "I actually thought it was rather nice."

Severus didn't quite like gaping at people. It made one feel extraordinarily stupid, especially if one had an intellect like his.

"You…enjoyed it." His eyebrow twitched as if it wanted to visit his hairline. He resisted the urge.

She blinked at him in amused surprise. "Well of _course_ I did, Severus," she told him as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world. "It's not everyday I'm in the bath and a man falls on top of me. A young, attractive man," she added with a decidedly sly wink.

It took all the willpower Severs possessed to NOT let his jaw drop. Minerva McGonagall, the pretty (if older) Head of Gryffindor House, thought he, Severus Snape, Hogwarts's resident Greasy Git, was attractive!

He shook his head to rid himself of that erroneous thought. Suddenly his common sense and wit decided to rejoin him. There was only one reason that a witch like Minerva would find a wizard like him attractive.

"You're drunk," he said with dry finality. Immediately she stopped giggling. _Small relief there, at least. _She stiffened and gazed at him indignantly.

"I am most certainly _not_ drunk!" she snapped haughtily.

The look was spoiled when her shoulders began to quake and another giggle made its way out of her mouth.

He didn't believe a word of it. Gryffindors were such terrible liars, after all.

"How many drinks?"

She laughed some more, as if it was the funniest thing he could have said. "I told you, I'm not drunk Severus!"

Well on his way to Fed Up With the Situation, Snape scowled at her.

"Obviously you have ingested some form of alcohol in the last half hour. Now, the question remains: _how many drinks_?"

Snape expected her to get angry, perhaps Summon her wand and start throwing hexes at him for even insinuating that Perfect Minerva Mc-bloody-Gonagall would _ever_ do something so crass as to get herself pissed. And on a school night, to boot!

He wasn't the least bit prepared for the feral grin she suddenly sent his way. When she got on her hands and knees and started slinking along the ledge towards him, his confidence flew out the window. Fondly kissing his dignity good-bye, he started backing up fast as possible.

"Hmm…I may have had a bit of brandy with my tea," she purred seductively. Her bum swung back and forth attractively as she slunk toward him, but Snape was too preoccupied with not falling off the ledge to really appreciate it.

"Minerva, you're obviously inebriated to some extent!" he protested, an octave higher than he would have liked, but there you are. Her eyes narrowed to near slits while her thin lips spread in a coy smile. That made him pause; she did look rather – ahem – striking like that. No woman had ever looked at the likes of _him_ that way before.

She spoiled the moment by licking her lips hungrily. He felt rather like an innocent little raven what had landed in a tree only to find a big hungry cat sitting next to it on the branch.

He backed up even quicker after that.

The moment his back hit the end of the bathtub, Snape knew he was in trouble. His black eyes shifted nervously to the ledge diagonally to his right, but he scratched the idea of trying to escape that way immediately. It would be too easy for her to jump him, or something like that. Merlin, but when had the fool woman suddenly become so brazen?

Besides, she would likely chase him around the bath until he tired out or gave in. Either way, he would lose. Best to confront it like a true Slytherin, face to face with the threat, and die with a sneer on his face.

This, of course, was easier said than done. It got exponentially more difficult the closer she came. And of _course_ she had to milk the situation for all it was worth, taking her own sweet time on arriving, leaving him to fret and fidget like a first year caught doing something especially nasty in class.

What happened next would continue to bewilder him each time he thought about it. She was the epitome of feline grace, confidently swaying towards him on her hands and knees. The way he saw it, there really was no reason for Minerva to suddenly slip a few centimetres away from him and plunge underwater. Later he would suspect that she did it on purpose.

Putting however it had happened aside, her face was still under water, in his lap.

Where, interestingly enough, she was currently seeing a certain part of him he would have rather liked kept away from her eyes.

If his face was red before, it was now positively scarlet and emitting enough heat to light fifty cauldron fires ten paces away. Snape might have thought about moving her away, but he was far too mortified to think beyond _Oh Merlin she's looking at _it! again and again and again.

What seemed like an eternity and a half (though was only about six or seven seconds) later, Minerva surfaced. Her ebony hair clung to a face far too close to his for comfort. But, worst of all, her expression resembled a smug cat who has just found an entire saucer of cream and a bit of catnip besides.

"Well," she drawled, her eyes shining, "you certainly aren't…_lacking_."

Something inside of him snapped as she bounced her eyebrows suggestively. Positively fed up with Gryffindors – especially drunk, _female_ Gryffindors – he shoved her away and curled into a defensive ball.

"That's it!" he snarled, glaring daggers at Minerva. "I am leaving!"

This time she raised one eyebrow in a perfectly annoying imitation of himself. "Go right ahead. I certainly won't stop you." She looked rather amused, instead of the insulted look he had been aiming for.

He gave her his best sneer – guaranteed to peel the paint off a wall – and turned to climb out of the tub. Snape had risen to sit on his knees when suddenly the situation smacked him upside the head rather forcefully.

If he got out of the bathtub, she would see him. Naked. Fully.

If he stayed in the bathtub, who knew what terrible female things she might do to him?

Not to mention he'd smell like a bloody poufter after sitting in – Merlin help him – rose-scented bubble bath.

Dilemma, dilemma!

Slowly he turned his head to find McGonagall gazing at him with a decidedly predatory gleam in her eyes. Snape fought the urge to swallow nervously. Him, nervous? Nonsense!

"Ahem. Ah, Minerva. Turn around," he said in his most neutral-but-commanding voice possible. She raised her other eyebrow at him in response.

He gritted his teeth. "_Please_," he added, though it hurt immensely to say it. Much like Cruciatus, actually.

This time her lips curled into a feline grin. "And why would I do that, Severus?" she asked, rather as if she were speaking to a rather slow, dense child. He didn't appreciate it. "I'd deprive myself of a rather fine show."

Severus gaped at her once again, remotely feeling stupid for having done that quite often in the past few minutes. Quickly, however, his anger caught up to him, and before he could stop himself, he was poking her collarbone with a slender finger.

"Dammit, woman! Where is your sense of propriety?" he fairly shrieked, jabbing her chest with his finger.

Like everything else he'd done tonight, this served to further amuse her. Later he'd languish in bed wondering _when_ he had lost his touch with intimidation. Personally, he thought her drunken boldness had something to do with it.

Drunken boldness or no, Minerva was now laughing heartily at him. He could feel his face burning ever hotter, and – to his immense disgust – a little flame of sickened humiliation burned low in his chest.

Severus wanted out of the tub. But he couldn't GET out of the tub. Minerva would see him naked. He didn't WANT her to see him naked. Therefore, as logic decreed, he would have to stay IN the tub.

For a fleeting moment he considered making a mad dash for the door and streaking his way to the dungeons, praying no students would be there to see. But alas, that wasn't the Slytherin way.

_Oh, woe is me!_

Snape suddenly realised Minerva was talking, and had been for a few moments. The mirth in her voice was fast becoming an annoyance he could decidedly live without, but it was the last comment she made that broke the proverbial camel's back.

"…and Severus, it isn't as if you have something that I haven't seen before." She eyed him with immense amusement. He snapped.

"Well bloody good for you!" Snape snarled, splashing back down into the water a bit more violently than he would have liked, but he was past the point of caring. Minerva looked a bit uncertain, but he didn't stop yelling. Which, when he looked back on it, he really should have stopped. Many embarrassing things would never have been mentioned.

Oh, the troubles a half-drunk female Gryffindor could get an innocent male Slytherin into!

Stupidly enough, he went on with his tirade. "That obviously means you've been intimate with someone, hasn't it? I bloody don't care! Just because I haven't – "

As if his brain magically clicked back on, he realised what he had just said and clammed up. Minerva was looking at him, shock written all over her face. He resolutely refused to meet her gaze.

"You…you're a _virgin_, Severus?" she asked incredulously, mouth agape with surprise.

Snape groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, joy of joys! Yet _another_ derogatory label for me! Death Eater! Greasy Git! And now…Virgin!" he moaned from behind his hands.

He didn't see the chagrined look in her eyes, otherwise he really would have run from the bathroom in shame, students outside or no. In fact, he was so caught up in his own misery that he only remembered Minerva was actually there when she placed a tentative hand on his arm.

Severus flinched at her light touch on his skin, removing his hands from his face to swat her away. She made a vexed sound in her throat, but didn't try to touch him again. For that, he was genuinely thankful.

"But…how could a nice-looking young man like you possibly be a virgin?" she asked, sympathy ringing in her voice. His mind interpreted it as 'pity.' If he hated anything more than being humiliated, it was being pitied. Thus, he acted accordingly.

"Oh yes, Minerva. Women just _flock_ to me, _begging_ to sleep in my bed," he scoffed, rolling his eyes at her. He folded his arms defensively across his thin chest and looked away. "As if. No woman in her right mind would want to do THAT with someone as, as _hideous_ as me!" By the time he finished speaking he was fairly shouting. His deep baritone echoed off the tiles for a few moments, leaving the two people in the midst of an awkward silence.

Inwardly he cursed himself for letting something so personal slip. And in front of Minerva, too! A bloody I-hate-Slytherins Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake! He swore colourfully in his head, imagining her telling her Gryffindors that dear Professor Snape had serious self-esteem issues. He would die if _Potter_ of all people found out!

Somewhere deep down inside he knew he wasn't being fair to Minerva. At the moment, however, he didn't want to be. Self-loathing and misery blanketed his mind, sending him spiralling off into a pit of shame and depression for being so _vulnerable_ in front of another person.

"Severus." Startled at the honest compassion he heard in her voice, he looked to her to find Minerva a few centimetres from his face, gazing at him. Her brown eyes held such warmth, he couldn't help but lose himself in them for a moment before firmly shaking away the illusion that she actually cared for _him_, Severus Snape, Bat of the Dungeons.

"Severus, that's not true. You are _not_ hideous," she stated firmly. She reached up to touch his face, but he moved away instinctively.

"Liar," he sneered, but not with quite the amount of venom he was used to injecting into his acerbic comments. He really needed OUT of this bathroom. It was seriously affecting him in highly negative ways.

"I am not," Minerva replied calmly, "and you know it." His sneer deepened.

"Is that so?" he asked mockingly. "And how many other women share this…_delusion_ of yours?" His lip curled in anticipation of her reply.

She remained calm, which disappointed him to no end. He dearly wanted an excuse to rant, and ranting at someone who was utterly calm did nothing to soothe him.

"Well, the women whom I know personally fancy you would be Rolanda Hooch – her especially – Pomona Sprout, and Sybil Trelawney." He shuddered involuntarily at the last name. Just the thought of that insect-like woman looking at him lustfully was enough to make him run to the Astronomy Tower and jump.

"I've also heard some of the seventh-year girls talking about a certain tall, dark and handsome professor," she added, a maddening twinkle in her eyes now. "Of course, I speak for only my students. I have no idea what the amount for the other three Houses is, but I'd wager galleons that not a few of the girls find you attractive."

Snape swallowed at this bit of information. His first instinct was to yell and accuse her of lying, but one long glance in her eyes and a little Legilimancy kicked that suggestion out the window.

"I know Rolanda would certainly like to…ahem…know you better. She says you have a nice bum," Minerva added mischievously.

If he had trouble facing her before, now he couldn't even look at the woman! He felt as if his entire body was blushing, which was decidedly NOT fantastic at all.

"It's not…they're lying," he said, aware that it was a rather lame thing to say in the face of overwhelming evidence. Still. He had lived his whole life being told that he was ugly, and had generally come to accept it has a fact of life. A rather nasty one, but a fact nonetheless.

He shifted uncomfortably on the ledge, feeling rather confused. But, of course, he would die before he ever admitted it.

As if sensing his discomfort, Minerva sighed, drawing his attention away from misery to her. He was surprised to see a melancholy grin on her face instead of the self-satisfied one he had become acquainted with the past quarter hour or so.

She sighed. "You aren't ugly, Severus. Really, you aren't," she said, holding up a hand when he automatically opened his mouth to protest. "In fact…I'm actually the worst-looking of the two of us."

Severus couldn't help but gape at her in astonishment. Minerva McGonagall thought _she_ was ugly?

Minerva continued, falling into a self-deprecating speech. "I hate my eyes the most. They're so small, and beady. But yours…" Here she paused and looked at him. This time, he surprised both of them by meeting her gaze. "Your eyes are so beautiful, Severus. Truly black eyes are rare. I suppose they're the first things one notices about you. Well besides your voice, that is. Pomona said your voice was like dark chocolate wrapped in velvet…" She gave him a watery little smile. "I agree."

It was odd, sitting there hearing a woman he'd long admired telling him that he was attractive and even naming off his best assets. Odder still, however, was hearing that self-same woman beating herself into a depression over something as trivial as her eyes.

_She_ wasn't the one who had a hawk's nose to deal with, thank you very much. He told her so.

Minerva laughed at his comment and wiped at her eyes. "Oh, Severus. Your nose is not nearly as big as you think it is. In fact, I think it gives your face character. Your face is rather thin, you know." She paused and gave him a quick once-over. "Well, _all_ of you is thin, actually."

Ignoring her last comment (the last thing he needed was a mother!), he did something Severus Snape usually would never have dreamed of doing. Well, dreamed perhaps, but never actually done.

He reached out and gently wiped a stray tear from her face. Her skin was just as soft and smooth as he imagined it to be; perhaps even more so. Severus tried to smile – he really did – but as he wasn't in the practice of doing so, it came out as a rather weak smirk instead.

She seemed to understand what he had been trying to do, though, and gave him a small smile of her own.

"There is nothing wrong with your eyes," he heard himself saying in a voice he never thought could belong to him. It was far too gentle and – dare he say? – compassionate. "They are rather nice. In fact, there is nothing wrong with you at all."

Suddenly he froze, realising that he had more or less told the woman that he found her beautiful.

Hopefully she wouldn't notice, and he could lean back, making no sudden moves, and somehow get away.

Unfortunately, she did notice. And she realised what he was about. Not good.

She grinned at him and leaned forward, pinning him between her arms with his back against the bathtub. Again.

He gulped in spite of himself, feeling uncomfortable with their faces so close. Not to mention that certain parts of her body were currently brushing his chest in a most satisfying sort of way.

"Thank you," she said breathily – more so than he thought the situation required. He couldn't say anything with his tongue glued to the top of his mouth. The look she was giving him…it ought to be given Unforgivable status!

"You know, Severus," she said, daintily playing with a strand of his black hair, "forget about Rolanda wanting to know you better. **_I_ **want to know you better."

Her smile was now positively intoxicating, her eyes shining with an emotion he couldn't quite place.

Severus, however, didn't notice either. He was currently fixated on her last statement.

"Are…are you serious?" he asked, not quite liking the breathless tone to his voice. "What would a nice-looking woman like you – who could likely have any man she chose – want with a hook-nosed monster like me?"

Instead of answering right away, she moved her hands from the edge of the tub and cupped his face tenderly. He could feel his heart racing as though it wanted to break out of his ribcage and run like Hell for the dungeons, were life was safe and predictable. He rather wished he was there, actually.

A second later he changed his mind.

"You are not a hook-nosed monster," she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. She brushed his lips with hers, causing him to jump in surprise and lodging his heart in his throat. "You are Severus Snape, a Potions Master; a brave, intelligent…and _beautiful_ man."

That said, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips.

* * *

A/N: I know, I know…fluff…I did warn you, though:)

Yet again, I'm sorry for the long update. It was my birthday on Saturday (18!) and I naturally got nothing done. On Sunday, there was church…and selfish me-time…and now, chapter 4 tis finished!

There should be only one more chapter left. I still haven't decided if the epilogue will be attached to this story, or if I'll make a whole new document. Is it allowed to have an M-rated chapter in an otherwise T-rated fic?

Anyhoo, thanks for reading and bearing with! Have a wonderful March! (My favourite month)

Cheers,

Ballad


	5. Chapter 5

Spring is in the Air…

By ShadowBallad

A/N: Gahh! I'm so sorry this has taken forever to get out! Life is playing me foul… (cries) Anyway, I am humbled by all the reviews you've sent! This chapter also clears a few things up from last chapter. Thanks so much for the encouragement! A little OOCness; LOTS of implied nudity, so if you no likey, no ready, 'k? Oh, and I'm taking full advantage of the 'T' rating, so be warned! And, there's also a GIGANTIC fluff warning in effect as well! (smiles)

Enough of my chattering; here's the last chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and friends (and enemies). If I did, I would be rich instead of dirt poor.

Chapter 5: Discussions, Massages, and Propositions

* * *

"_You are not a hook-nosed monster," she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. She brushed his lips with hers, causing him to jump in surprise and lodging his heart in his throat. "You are Severus Snape, a Potions Master; a brave, intelligent…and beautiful man."_

_That said, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips._

Although he would never admit it under torture, it was a moment Severus wanted never to end. The kiss was, admittedly, rather chaste; but that was beside the point. Ultimately, it wasn't the kiss that made him feel warm; made him feel wanted.

It was the woman doing the kissing.

Minerva.

Hardly daring to believe that this was actually happening, he tentatively wrapped his arms around her torso. She made a pleased sound in her throat, deepening the kiss and moving her hands from his face to wrap around his neck.

When she finally pulled away, Severus released a breath he hadn't been aware he'd taken. Minerva chuckled.

"For your first time kissing, you did rather well," she said playfully. He tried to smile back, but, gobsmacked as he was, his lips only twitched a bit. Apparently, the brandy currently residing in her brain interpreted this as a desire on his part for another kiss.

The woman obliged – after swiftly plunking herself in his lap first.

He made a startled squeak that was quickly cut off by her lips once again on his. Feeling quite out of his element – after all, there wasn't a cauldron involved – he leaned back against the tiles and let Minerva take command.

Of course it wasn't a permanent thing. The more she taught him, the faster he'd learn and give the woman a taste of her own medicine.

"Mmm," she murmured, smiling against his mouth as she pulled away to break the kiss.

"Not so fast, Minerva," he rumbled, and shocked her by pulling her up against his chest and planting a possessive kiss on her surprised lips.

He was a fast learner, after all.

A few breathless moments later, he released a rather astonished Transfigurations professor and gave her an imperious look. "Have I improved?" he asked silkily.

Severus was rewarded with nothing but silence. Silence, and brown eyes at the widest he'd ever seen them. Slowly she nodded, and let a grin creep back onto her face.

"My, my; aren't we a quick study?" she said. It was very nearly a purr. "Although…" Here she looked at the Potions Master appraisingly. "The finer points of kissing are probably beyond you." Her lips quirked into a smirk not unlike his own usual expression.

He raised his left eyebrow. "Oh? I daresay you'll never know unless you teach me. Unless, of course, you know of a more competent teacher in the subject?" It was a challenge, plain and simple.

Gryffindors are notorious for their inability to back down from challenges. Therefore, Minerva spent the next minutes educating Severus on the "finer points of kissing" discussed only moments earlier.

Severus was delighted to discover that her skin wasn't as soft as he had thought; it was even softer! He let his hands roam the planes of her back as her mouth roamed his own. Fingers well practised in judging potions ingredients based on touch revelled in the feel of her beneath them; the hint of bones and muscle beneath silky skin.

This time, he had no qualms admitting that the experience was absolutely divine.

* * *

Minerva was so happy she could sing – although, she thought, that might scare Severus away and completely destroy her past hour's work.

She scratched that idea and settled on exploring Severus instead.

The slender, almost-too-thin body she had admired earlier in the evening was now at her fingertips. While her mouth worked at his, her hands caressed his back, his arms, his chest; everything they could attach themselves to.

It felt so utterly_ good_ to wrap her arms around him. Her right hand travelled down his chest, caressing his ribs, while the left buried itself in his silky black hair. Severus was still a bit tense – years of spying could do that to a person – but it was something she looked forward to teaching him to let go of.

He, of all the people she knew, seriously needed to learn to completely relax.

"You know," she whispered against his lips, "being a virgin isn't a bad thing."

"Hmm?" She could tell by his tone that he wasn't really listening. Minerva had enough experience with men to know that once it started getting physical, their ability to think decreased exponentially. As much as it pained her to admit it, she needed to disentangle herself from his arms if she hoped to communicate in a remotely intelligent fashion.

Telling herself that it was only for his own good, she wriggled free of his grasp and slid off his lap onto the ledge.

"Minerva?" he looked at her, disappointment at losing contact emanating off of him in almost visible waves.

He looked so utterly lost and forlorn that she couldn't help but tenderly cup his face in her hands. She was rewarded when his body lost some of the rigidity it had adapted when she slid away from him.

"I said," she began again, smiling patiently, "that being a virgin isn't a bad thing. Not even remotely so, actually."

Severus huffed and made to cross his arms over his chest, but thought better of it and settled them tentatively around her waist. Minerva knew she was beaming like an idiot, but didn't care.

"Try to see the issue from _my_ point of view, Minerva!" he said.

The Transfigurations teacher laughed. "'Issue,' Severus? It's not an issue. I rather think it speaks well of your self-restraint."

"Or perhaps the inability to find someone willing to go that far with me." He looked away, his eyes beginning to cloud with some dark emotion.

"Severus." She tightened her grip on his face and forced him to look at her. It pained her deeply to see the man she cared for – even thought she could love – crushing himself beneath self-loathing.

Minerva didn't need to say anything else as their eyes met. She gazed at him, trying to let him see how much she truly cherished him.

She would have stuffed it down his throat and choked him on it if she thought it would have helped any.

Fortunately he seemed to realise what she was trying to say to him, and the dark emotion passed. One hand left her waist to grasp one of her own, and with his deep black eyes focused on her own, he slowly raised it to his lips and planted a kiss upon it.

"Th-thank you…Minerva…" he whispered, voice filled with as much emotion as she had ever heard before.

She pulled him into her arms in response, fully aware that she was smirking like a cat in front of a saucer of cream. Infinitely touched by his charming gesture, she carded her fingers through her hair and planted another kiss on his lips.

"Just what _is _the issue, Severus?" she asked playfully as she let him go. To her surprise his cheeks turned a bit pink, and with a giggle she realised he was blushing. She was certain she was the only person to have ever seen such a rare phenomenon.

"Well, you're not a man –"

"Hallelujah," Minerva quipped –

"– so I wouldn't expect you to understand," he finished, glaring at her. She merely grinned back at him, waiting for him to explain himself. When he didn't open his mouth again, she frowned and pursued the issue.

"Do most men believe that any male over the age of thirty-five who is still a virgin is less _masculine_ than he ought to be?" He looked supremely uncomfortable about discussing such an issue with her, but the cat Animagus was pleased that he was comfortable enough around her to actually talk about it. Even though a few terse words and cryptic hints really couldn't be called "talking." Oh, well. It was a start, at least.

"Perhaps," he said noncommittally, snaking his arm around her shoulders.

Now it was Minerva's turn to lift her eyebrow at him. "Trying to distract me, are we?" she said in a mock-angry voice. He shrugged.

"Maybe."

She wanted to hit him. Badly. But, figuring that it wouldn't help her in her quest to understand the elusive man that was Severus Snape, she refrained from doing so.

Instead, she curled up seductively against his side and placed her head on his shoulder, her left thumb running smooth circles over his hip bone. She felt him shiver – and not from cold – and had to suppress a grin.

Deciding to get him nice and unguarded, she sighed and snuggled into him, raising her head so her breath played over his ear. The usually stoic, I-am-in-command-of-my-emotions Severus Snape, was now a trembling mess of anticipation.

Minerva delighted in the fact that she was the first one to bring him to such a state, and silently vowed that anyone else who tried would be drawn, quartered, and hung from a tree by their toes.

"So," she said in her breathiest voice possible, her hand still roaming over his hips, "what _is_ the issue?"

"…Issue?" he asked fuzzily, his hands entangling themselves in her hair.

Minerva mentally hit her head against a wall. He was either playing stupid, or he honestly had forgotten what they were talking about before she started trying to "distract" him. Merlin, were all men this incorrigible? Or was it just this particular one?

"Minerva?" He was looking at her, brows slightly furrowed and dark eyes narrowed in concern. "Is everything all right? I'm not hurting you, am I?"

She snorted and resisted the urge to wring his neck, all the while telling him that he couldn't possibly be hurting her by running his fingers through her hair.

"No, Severus," she said patiently, giving him a smile. (She'd decided to write off figuring out what exactly his issue was as a bad job and focus on the man himself instead).

Severus fidgeted and made to draw away, but she held onto him until he settled back into her arms. Wondering exactly what had got into him, she opened her mouth to ask when he suddenly blurted out, "I'm sorry."

The Transfigurations teacher gaped at him. "What on earth do you have to be sorry for?" she asked, bewildered.

He gave her a wry grin. "The usual: being a murdering Death Eater and greasy git to top it off," he said with a smirk. It lacked his usual derision, however, and seemed more sad than scornful.

She stared at him. "You are _not_ a murdering Death Eater!" she exclaimed. "You're our spy, a very integral person to the Order of the Phoenix. If we didn't have you, many more people would be injured, captured or dead! Your information saves lives, Severus." Realising that she sounded rather patronising, she grinned slightly and caressed his cheek. "And you most certainly are NOT a greasy git. I'm not in the habit of falling for greasy gits, after all. I'd rather like to think that I have more taste than that!"

He sighed, then took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes, never breaking contact. Minerva gave a startled squeak at his sudden actions, but didn't pull away. "I'm still sorry for it," he said, then shook his head when she made to speak. "No, please don't say anything. I…need to say this." Slowly the Animagus nodded, unconsciously moving closer to the faintly upset man.

"You see, at one point I truly was a Death Eater, and I did…terrible things. When I became Albus's spy, I still had to do terrible things to keep my cover. And I've had to act like a complete bastard at this school to keep up my image in front of the Death Eaters' children, who could report back to their parents if I ever did not act like a follower of the Dark Lord should. After all of these years pretending, it's just become a part of me. And yes, everything I have just told you does have a point," he added, a small smile gracing his thin lips.

Minerva gently removed her right hand from his and ran her fingers down the side of his face. He leaned into her touch for a moment before pulling away and fixing her with his piercing black gaze once more.

"Because of all of this, I am not sure that I am able to actually love. I am sorry, Minerva, if ever I should fail to meet your expectations of what a…a lover should be."

The look in his eyes was so forlorn that Minerva nearly felt her heart break inside. Leaning toward him, she resumed stroking his face with her fingers and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. "All of that may be true, but it is in the past. You may never forget it, but at least you can live beyond it." She smiled and then and leaned against his chest.

"It was…very brave of you to reveal something so personal to me," she continued, relishing in the feeling of the way his hands felt as they trailed down her back.

He shifted beneath her. "I would never have said anything if I did not think you would understand…or unless I believed that perhaps something might come of this."

Suddenly thrilled beyond imagination, Minerva sat up and pulled him to her in a gigantic hug. The look of surprised confusion in his eyes after she pulled away made her laugh out loud.

"I would be delighted to have something 'come of this,' as you said!" she exclaimed, laughing joyously and hugging him again.

She lost a little of her enthusiasm when she felt how tense he still was in her arms, and pulled away. Suddenly an idea came to her mind, and with a mischievous grin, she pulled both Severus and herself to a sitting position on the edge of the tub.

"I think," she said, tapping her lip appraisingly, "that what you need is a good massage."

* * *

Severus felt his face heat up as Minerva pulled him from the safety of the water. Oh, **she** had nothing to be ashamed of, what with her gorgeous body, shapely legs and firm breasts and…He mentally shook the thought from his head, knowing that if he allowed it to progress any further, his ability to think straight would slip away.

And if Severus valued anything above his expertise in potions, it was his logical mind.

Of course, having a logical mind did him no good sitting naked in a bathroom with an equally naked female Gryffindor intent on giving him a "good massage."

A naked female Gryffindor whose naked body was rather attractive. And right in front of him. All he had to do was reach out his hands and…

_No! Must not think of such things! Must not think of such things!_ He repeated this over and over in his mind, intent on distracting his eyes from the feast before them.

Suddenly he realised that Minerva was talking to him, and reluctantly tore his gaze from her chest to settle on her face. She rolled her eyes, as if she had expected this reaction of him, and repeated what she had just said.

"I want you to lie on your stomach on this towel and try to relax. _Completely_ relax, Severus," she added. He didn't particularly care for the slightly huffy tone to her voice. As far as he could see, there really was no call for it. Just because his gaze wasn't exactly on her face…_Gaah! Must not think of such things!_

Not wanting to have an angry Minerva on his hands – he shuddered at the thought – Severus decided to obey. Just this once. He looked at the towel, back at her, raised an eyebrow, and slowly lay down.

"Very good," she crooned from behind him. He didn't care for the I'm-talking-to-a-little-child quality to her voice. He sat up on his elbows to glare at her and let her know just how much he didn't care for it when she shoved him back onto the towel.

"Lay down!" Minerva commanded from somewhere behind his shoulder. Severus glared at the tiles instead; very much aware that if he made her angry he would never find out exactly how good a massage the Gryffindor could give.

As he settled himself into a comfortable position, strains of music suddenly floated in the air. He was no expert in Muggle music, but knew enough to recognise it as a soft, classical piece. Once again he looked over his shoulder at her and raised an eyebrow. Minerva merely twirled her wand, dimming the candles a bit and transfiguring a rag into a bottle of oil of some sort.

"What, you don't like Pachabel's Canon?" she asked cheekily. Severus rolled his eyes and flopped back onto the towel. Obviously he wasn't going to get an answer from the annoying woman.

"Should I be taking some hints from the ambiance you have managed to create?" he drawled in his best I'm-completely-unaffected voice.

Again, Minerva didn't answer. Instead, she dabbed a bit of warm oil onto his skin and began to smooth it around his back.

It felt…odd, to say the least.

"Minerva, what _is_ that? What are you doing back there?" He made to sit up again, but only got a few centimetres off the towel before being shoved back down.

"Lay down!" she ordered, oily hands moving up to his neck and shoulders. "It's just massage oil; not some poisonous skin-eating potion, I assure you."

Severus almost moaned in pleasure at the way her hands felt moving across the planes of his back, but managed to stop himself. Didn't want her thinking he was too eager, did he? Of course not.

"Obviously it is not the latter, as you probably cannot even _brew_ a poisonous, skin-eating potion," he taunted. He, after all, had to actually _think_ to make those nasty, fickle potions; there was no way Min –

"OW!" he shrieked as a well-oiled hand slapped his left buttock. This time he got about five centimetres off the floor before being shoved back down. Only this time, Minerva's hands remained on his shoulders, pinning him down.

"What was that for!" Severus exclaimed, desperately trying to see the infuriating creature's face.

"If you can't lie still, I won't give you a massage," came the reply in an annoying sing-song voice.

New respect (and irritation) at this new, _Slytherin_ side of Minerva growing, Severus huffed and flopped back down onto the towel for the third time in around five minutes. "This better be good," he grumbled, but most of the venom he usually injected into such comments was noticeably absent.

His skin was far too excited about Minerva's hands touching it that he really didn't want to risk her leaving.

"Don't worry; it **will** be," she said. He heard rather than saw the smirk in her voice.

* * *

Minerva studied her victim – er, _recipient_ – with hungry eyes. Her hands itched to touch his pale, smooth skin – and here he was, conveniently waiting for her to do just that. She smiled wickedly, immensely pleased with herself, and knelt astride his legs.

Even Trelawney could have predicted his reaction, and she was just a batty old fraud.

"MINERVA!" Severus shrieked right on cue. Again he tried to sit up, and again she shoved him back down, none-too-gently this time. She was getting rather tired of repeating herself.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a rather pathetic voice a few seconds later. It was rather breathy and shallow, and no doubt due to the fact that she was currently sitting on the backs of his thighs.

"Giving – or rather, _attempting_ – to give you a massage," she replied. "Now stay still!"

This time she smacked the right buttock.

This time he didn't even try to sit up. He just craned his neck over his shoulder and sent her a death glare that would have probably killed the Dark Lord had he indeed been in the room. In all actuality, she thought, the Dark Lord would have been incinerated upon even _attempting_ to get inside the bathroom, what with how body-shy Severus was.

"Well?" he demanded in an oddly strained voice. Shaken from her reverie, Minerva apologised unrepentantly and began the massage.

"Ready?" she asked, knowing full well that he was, but feeling like being irritating at the moment and asking anyway.

He was about to give a (no doubt) scathing reply when she gently placed her hands on either side of his spine, just above his hips.

His body went rigid for a spit second, and not even the music could cover up his sharp intake of breath. Then, just as suddenly as he became rigid, she felt him completely relax beneath her hands and start to breathe again.

Smirking, she gave his hips a little squeeze before applying light pressure to either side of his spine and moving her hands forward toward his shoulder blades. Next, she moved her hands in a curve over his shoulder blades, shoulders, then back along the sides of his ribcage to her starting position.

"Gods, that feels wonderful!" the man beneath her sighed, wriggling slightly in contentment.

"Mm-hm," she agreed, revelling in the feel of his skin as her hands glided across his body. Her fingers delicately dipped into the spaces between ribs as she completed the first motion a second time and started on a third.

"Mmm…Minerva…where did you learn this?" he asked a few moments later, his voice brimming with warm satisfaction. It pleased her that she could give him a little gift like this to make up for all the hardships he'd suffered in his life, from teaching dunderhead students to attending stressful Death Eater meetings.

What pleased her more was the fact that he was letting her do it…and was, for all intents and purposes, enjoying it immensely.

"Let me think about that for a moment," she asked, partly because she didn't quite remember but mostly because her hands were busy tasting the silken skin beneath them. Wouldn't the students be shocked to discover their supposed 'greasy git' of a Potions Master had better skin than most of them?

He chuckled beneath her, a rich, deep baritone sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Come, Minerva. You aren't yet old enough to forget things," he said, his voice teasing.

Minerva smiled at his back as she switched to a different stroke, this time placing her right hand on his lower back perpendicular to his spine. "But I _am_ old," she remarked with a smile he couldn't see but hoped he sensed in her voice. Her hand moved in a counter clockwise, semi-circular motion toward his spine, gently pressing as it made its way closer. After her right hand had moved a few centimetres, she quickly replaced it with her left and continued the stroke up his back.

"You are not 'old,' Minerva, not in the least!" he protested, shifting subtly and almost throwing off her stroke.

She was about to tell him just how old she was to see his reaction, but thought better of it. "Scheming little Slytherin, don't you know it's rude to ask a lady's age?" she taunted, applying a bit more pressure than necessary and making him groan a bit.

"I _didn't_ ask," he said sulkily. "I just said – Ow! – that you're not old."

"But you asked it in such a way that I would be persuaded to tell you my age if I wanted to prove you wrong," she retorted lightly, moving to his other side to start the circular hand stroke again.

"Ah, but that is the beauty of the whole debate: I am not wrong."

"Ah, but you are. I am old. Older than you, at any rate," she said, still teasing him a bit.

Suddenly, what she just said hit home. She wasn't **just** 'older' than him; she was almost 30 years older! Her motions slowed as her brain processed this thought. Did she truly have any business seeking a romantic relationship with Severus when she was old enough to be his mother?

"Ah, Minerva. Could you go a bit faster?" asked Severus, interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh, forgive me, Severus," she said, giving herself a little shake before resuming her previous pace. "I was just thinking."

"About what?" She was about to reply when he interrupted her. "About how you're much too old for me and, that being so, what the bloody hell are you doing giving a younger man a romantic back massage?"

Shocked beyond words, Minerva stopped the stroke and stared at the back of his head. If she didn't know that Legilimancy worked only through eye contact, she would have smacked him and accused him of doing just that. Maybe he _did_ have eyes in the back of his head, like all his students claimed…

"Let me tell you something, Minerva," he said, completely serious as he twisted around to face her. "You might be older than me, but I _do not care_. Muggles may think that – well, however old you are – is 'ancient,' but surely you realise that among your own kind, you are in the prime of your life."

"Severus…" She was so moved by his words, she couldn't say a thing.

Instead she found herself draped across his side, capturing his lips in a kiss.

His black eyes were wide in surprise when she pulled away, giving him another small peck on his cheek as she did so.

The two people enjoyed the beauty of the moment before Severus donned his imperious-Potions-Master look and gazed up at her with hooded eyes. "Besides," he drawled, "I rather believe I enjoy having a woman of such incredible experience around instead of a brainless young chit."

Minerva laughed outright at this, and a few moments later her soft soprano was joined by his velvety baritone. "You rouge!" she chuckled, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. He blinked in surprise, but didn't pull away. "You know just what to say to a woman, don't you!"

He smirked up at her, his eyes – gasp! – twinkling! Only slightly; but just enough so that she couldn't resist tipping up his chin and soundly kissing him for a few moments before pushing him back onto the towel.

"To answer your original question," she said as she began kneading the muscles around his neck, "I honestly don't remember exactly where I learned to give a massage." He moaned appreciatively under the ministrations of her hands, and she smiled down at his slender back.

"It is a deeply appreciated skill," Severus gasped as she moved to his shoulders.

"Glad you like it," she replied, bending down to give the back of his neck a kiss. He gasped again and shuddered with pleasure. Encouraged by his positive responses, Minerva spent a few moments kissing his neck and nibbling at his ears before moving on to milk the muscles in his upper arms.

The Potions Master sighed happily as the Gryffindor's talented hands and lips nearly made him melt into the towel. He was so relaxed that he didn't even jump in surprise when she repositioned herself to sit on his ankles and knead his thighs and calves.

"Mmm…Minerva…you are a _goddess_."

The Transfigurations professor chuckled at his breathy comment. "Why, thank you, Severus!" she laughed, letting her fingertips tease over the sensitive flesh of his bum before returning to his legs. "Although I daresay you didn't think that of me a half hour ago."

His deep voice rumbled in laughter. "No; half an hour ago I thought you were a drunken, crazed banshee."

He yelped as she grabbed his bum and gave it a quick squeeze before scooting back up to rake her fingertips down his back.

"Well, I did have a cuppa with Pomona and Rolanda after you kicked me out," she said, a few moments later. "And a little bit of brandy," she added as an afterthought.

Severus snorted. "A 'little bit of brandy,' you say? I think it was a 'bit' more than that."

Minerva resisted the urge to rake her fingernails down his flesh instead of just her fingertips.

Luckily for him, her hands and arms were getting tired.

Instead, she brought her hands back up to his shoulders and rested them there for a second or two. She felt him shift (no doubt to complain about her stopping). Before he could protest, she gently drew her fingers down his back, letting her fingertips run over his smooth skin.

"Perhaps," she conceded as she started drawing little circles and figure eights on his back. It was her way of saying, 'I'm exhausted and you're not getting any more massaging, but I'm giving you a minute to get used to the idea before I stop touching you.'

"Perhaps," he repeated incredulously. "You are quite sure you didn't ingest half the bottle?"

Minerva smiled at his back, too tired to get mock-upset by his comment. Instead, she traced little Gryffindor lions all over his back, shoulders and thighs.

"No, that was Rolanda," she deadpanned.

He twisted so he could see her face, which remained stoically devoid of emotion.

"Now her, I could believe it of," he muttered. "Hooch acts more like a man than a woman most of the time."

Minerva smirked at this before reaching out and grabbing a strand of his hair. "Well, she _does_ fancy you, you know," she reminded him as she toyed with the raven-dark lock.

"Joy," Severus drawled, before taking Minerva's face gently in his hands and turning it so that she looked directly into his eyes. "But she is not the one in here with me, is she?"

Touched by the affection in his dark eyes that was so rarely ever present, Minerva gently turned him over onto his back and settled herself onto his stomach.

"No, she isn't," she said, leaning down and kissing her way from his collarbone to his lips. "I am."

Softly the Slytherin wound his fingers into Minerva's own dark hair and gathered her closer to himself. "And that is exactly what I want," he whispered, leaning up to kiss her flushed lips.

As she settled into a more comfortable position on his chest – ("You're so bony!" / "Deal with it.") – she stroked his hair and sighed.

"You know, I rather think this has been the most enjoyable night I've had for…oh…quite a while, actually," she said, letting her hands explore the small but toned muscled in his arms.

"It certainly was the best bit of advice you have given me for quite a while," Severus quipped, earning his bicep a squeeze.

"I can see myself coming back here quite often," she said. Minerva then rolled off his chest and leaned over him, catching his wrists in her hands and planting a kiss on his forehead.

"Only, of course, if you wish it." She raised her eyebrows imploringly at him, almost daring him to say no. The cat Animagus certainly had strength enough somewhere to give him a frontal massage and change his mind if he indeed said 'no.'

Fortunately for her hands, Severus merely lifted one immaculate eyebrow in his trademark fashion and drawled, "I suppose I am willing to give it a try."

* * *

Filius Flitwick glanced over at Pomona Sprout, who was sitting to the left of two vacant chairs. It was the fourth time that month neither Severus nor Minerva bothered to show up for dinner in the Great Hall.

Perplexed, he leaned over to the woman on his right. "Rolanda," he hissed inconspicuously, "_where _are Severus and Minerva? It seems like they haven't been to dinner quite a lot this month."

Rolanda belched (but ladylike, of course), and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. Flitwick gaped at her in well-concealed disgust when suddenly a thought entered his sharp mind.

"Do you think – maybe – that they're seeing each other in secret?" he squeaked excitedly.

Hooch ignored him for the tasty bit of pudding still on her plate.

The diminutive Charms professor began to get fidgety as it appeared the flight instructor was not going to answer his question.

"They are, aren't they? I _knew_ it!" he exclaimed, sounding like an excited hamster. "Where are they now? Ohh, I bet they're taking a romantic moonlit walk on the grounds! Where do _you_ think they are?" he asked, once again trying to engage Rolanda in conversation.

Instead, Hooch sighed and pushed back from her chair.

Disappointed, Flitwick's excitement deflated and he put his chin in his hands to ponder the mystery on his own.

As she made to walk by, Rolanda bent down close to his ear. Perking up, hoping for a juicy bit of Hogwarts gossip, Flitwick leaned in closer to hear what she had to say.

She gave him a mysterious smile and said, "My lips are sealed."

* * *

A/N: Wow, it's finally over! Thanks so much for waiting all this time… (blush) I sincerely hope it was worth the wait.

All the moves Minerva uses are actual massage strokes. I got them off of a site, "So you Wanna: Learn to Give a Massage." The quote about her being done giving the massage and Severus needing to get used to her stopping also came from that site. Heheh…I'm not witty enough to come up with something like that. :D

Thanks for reading!

Cheers,

Ballad


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